Spec2cular
by Mythril Moth
Summary: With the Green Goblin gone, Peter Parker has to deal with the fallout in his personal life-Gwen Stacy's continued, miserable relationship with Harry Osborn, his own guilt, and his ongoing money woes. But his life as Spidey has its own problems as new heroes and new villains rise up to keep New York City on its toes. A continuation of Spectacular Spider-Man.
1. The Fantastic Spider-Man

**Author's Notes:**

Hello, new and returning readers! I'm here with a new project I'm very excited about!

If you've been (im)patiently waiting for updates to my _Miraculous Ladybug_ stories, rest assured they're coming eventually, I've just had a really prolonged dry spell inspiration-wise. For now, though, I'm going to try my hand at something I should've done ages ago: Spider-Man, one of my two favorite superheroes of all time.

This story is set in Earth-26496 (the Spectacular Spider-Man animated series), which means characters and events in this story are unlikely to match up with 616. So please, no comments about how I "got it wrong" if something isn't exactly like the 616 version you know. Also, this story isn't tagged as a crossover because, well...Marvel.

I think you'll enjoy what I have in store. Let's get this ball rolling! Enjoy!

* * *

 **SPEC2CULAR**

 _by Mythril Moth_

 _ **BOOK ONE: HEROES ON THE RISE**_

 **Chapter 1: The Fantastic Spider-Man**

Swinging through the city was a great way to organize one's thoughts.

By now, Peter Parker had been zipping from building to building high above the busy streets of Manhattan long enough that he barely needed to pay attention to what he was doing, leaving his mind free to wander as his eyes scanned the streets below for anything unusual.

After the way the last few weeks had been going, he was in desperate need of a few crooks to beat down. At least _that_ part of his life was simple, straightforward, and generally ended in a win.

 _My best friend is acting like a creep—oh, and I basically killed his dad, so there's that. Things are weird at school because I broke up with my girlfriend and now I can't even look at her without feeling guilty. The girl I_ want _to be with can't break up with Harry because he's still in mourning for his supervillain dad. On top of that, my reputation's still in the toilet. Why can't my life stop sucking for like, five minutes?_

As he idly shot another web, a sonic boom shook the city. Toward the East River, the patchy clouds glowed red-hot as a fireball wreathed in black smoke streaked through the sky, its course wobbling as it descended. Spider-Man's eyes widened. "Oh man...is that some kind of meteor?" With a quick twist of his body and a flick of the wrist, he changed direction, headed for the river, eyes never leaving the streaking object.

Halfway there, as it skimmed the top of the Brooklyn Bridge by an uncomfortably small margin, Spidey realized it wasn't a meteor at all, but a spaceship. Biting off a curse, he picked up speed. He'd just launched himself toward the bridge when the ship splashed down in the river, spewing salty green water high into the air.

"Ugh," Spidey grumbled, watching the water churn up, rippling around the crash even as a fresh cloud of dark, oily smoke issued from the cooling metal. "Like there wasn't already enough garbage in there..." Looking up, he saw police helicopters already converging on the crash; a Coast Guard boat was already speeding up the river. "Well, the authorities are already on the scene, so I guess they don't need—"

A ***whump*** sound, accompanied by a tearing of metal, rang out as a panel on the ship buckled, then exploded away, flying through the air and landing in the water. Something huge, bulky, and orange climbed up out of the ship, rocking it in the water. Spidey's eyes widened. "Whuh-oh," he muttered. "Alien alert." Grimacing under his mask, he anchored himself to the bridge and swung out, breaking his line at the last second and somersaulting down onto the ship. He prepared to fire web lines at the orange thing before it could put up a fight, only to stop when he saw it slump over, nearly tumbling out into the river. Through the opening in the ship's hull, he could see that the inside of the ship was on fire...and at least two bodies in spacesuits were sprawled out nearby.

 _Human_ bodies.

Adjusting his aim, Spidey webbed the two bodies and gently lifted them up and past the orange thing, safely out of the reach of the glowing orange flames. Only...

The first body was a young blond woman. Or rather, part of one. There didn't seem to be anything left below her chest. Spidey felt the gorge rise in his throat. Even as sickness and dread filled him, a detail stood out:

There also wasn't any blood or...well... _guts_. Her body just... _ended._

Shaking his head, Spidey turned his attention to the second body, a man with salt-and-pepper hair. He found it harder to pull the second body out, and after a moment, he realized what the problem was: This body was _stretching_ , like rubber.

That was more than Peter Parker's teenage stomach could take. He turned away from the crash, ripped his mask halfway off, and vomited into the East River.

The glow of the fire in the ship brought his attention back to the situation, and he forced himself to focus and calm down. Looking back at the ship and its bevy of horrors, he saw an orange humanoid shape—made entirely of fire—climb up out of the wreck and flop down on the hull. After a second, the fires dimmed, ebbing away to reveal a blond teenage boy.

The Coast Guard ship was now within range of the crash, and the helicopters were hovering overhead. _"Spider-Man!"_ an officer bellowed over the chopper's loudspeaker. _"Stand down! Leave this to us!"_

"I'd love to, really I would," Spidey yelled up at them. "But I just gotta know what the heck's going on here! Besides, that big orange thing might be more than you can handle! You might need my help!"

There was a pause, then... _"Alright. But if you're ordered to leave, LEAVE."_

"Works for me." Spidey webbed himself over to the Coast Guard ship and landed on the deck just as rescuers brought the boy and the man aboard. Two rescuers hovered grimly over the half-woman. "Strangest looking dismemberment I've ever—" One of the rescuers suddenly trailed off, blinking. "Wait, this isn't right! She's alive! Like, really alive!"

"Really? Like that?" Spidey called, feeling his gorge rise again. "Shouldn't she be bleeding out of like, everywhere?"

As they dragged the woman onto a stretcher, the second rescuer frowned, feeling around in empty air. "I feel legs," she said. "Legs...posterior...torso." She looked up in alarm. "This woman's body is intact," she said. "It's just...invisible!"

"Half-invisible woman?" Spidey wondered, thwipping over for a closer look. "That's new." As he made room for the rescuers to take the woman to the boat, he studied the massive orange monster. It was vaguely humanoid, but its skin was made entirely of orange rocks. "So, uhh...what do we do with this thing?" he wondered.

The Coast Guard officers conferred for a moment, then shrugged collectively. "We call it in, find out what the police and the Army want to do with it," one of them said.

"Not an...it."

All eyes turned to the stretchy man, who groaned as he rubbed his face with a flattened-out, stretched hand, his fingers wobbling like flat noodles. "That...thing is...Lieutenant Benjamin Grimm, and he's a...war hero."

Spidey crouched down beside the man. "You're saying it's human?!"

"New York born and bred," the man confirmed, looking up at Spidey and blinking. "Umm..."

"What kind of ship is this? Who are you people?" Spidey pressed. "Why are you all so...not normal?"

"Like you're one to talk?" one of the rescuers muttered with a snort.

The man sat up, frowning. "I'm Reed Richards," he said. "We were...hit by a cosmic storm..." He slumped forward, closing his eyes tiredly. His limp, stretchy arms fell flat at his side, reminding Spidey of a deflated tube man.

Everyone looked at each other awkwardly.

"Well this is a fantastic mess," Spidey said sourly.

* * *

Three hours later, Spidey stood beside Captain George Stacy in the medical bay at the Vault. "We're not keeping them here, right?" Spidey asked as he observed the four survivors from the ship. The three human ones were laid out on hospital beds, hooked up to various sensors and IVs, sheets tucked around them. The fourth, the one identified as Benjamin Grimm, was sprawled out in a reinforced steel cage, with doctors and scientists swarming around him. He was still unconscious like the others.

"I don't think so," Stacy said. "Not unless they become hostile. It just made sense to bring them here because the medical facilities are more equipped to handle, well..."

"Craziness?"

"In a word." Stacy clasped his hands behind his back. "Quite a puzzle we have here," he said. "Three of these people are famous in their own right. It'll be a media frenzy once this gets out. It's a good thing nobody could get a clear picture of Dr. Richards or the kid before we cleared the crash site."

" _Dr._ Richards?" Spidey asked.

Captain Stacy nodded. "Dr. Reed Richards, a noted astrophysicist. He studies...well, things I don't even know the meaning of. Space stuff." He gestured to the bed to Reed's right. "Jonathan Storm, a rising star in the extreme sports world." He pointed at the orange rockpile. "Assuming that _is_ in fact Lieutenant Benjamin Grimm, he was decorated twice for his service in Afghanistan and Iraq."

Spidey nodded. "Okay, I'm impressed. And the invisible girl?"

"Susan Storm, Mr. Storm's older sister." Captain Stacy frowned. "She's the odd one out. She's an acting student at UC Santa Barbara. That's all we could find out about her."

"Well, you could try asking her," Spidey said, pointing at Susan, whose eyelids were fluttering. A doctor rushed over as Susan let out a groan and shifted in bed, opening her eyes.

"Where..." Susan mumbled drowsily. She squinted in the harsh lights. "Reed?" Suddenly, her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright. "JOHNNY?! WHERE—"

"Calm down, miss," the doctor said.

"Who are—?" Susan looked around. "Where am—" She looked down at herself in confusion. As soon as she realized nothing was protecting her modesty but a thin bedsheet and blanket, she yelped, pulling the sheet up tighter over her chest.

Then she disappeared from view entirely. The sheet pulled against her chest and pinned under her arms was the only evidence she was even there.

"Now that's a handy trick," Spidey said. "Man, I wish I could do that sometimes. Sooo many times that'd come in handy."

"Who—who are you people? What do you want with me? What's going on? Where's my brother?!" Susan's disembodied voice cried, rising in panic.

"Calm down, Miss Storm," Captain Stacy said in a placating tone. "You're safe. You were in a terrible crash. You, your brother, and two others were pulled out of a burning spaceship that crashed in the East River. You're in a medical bay for treatment and observation."

"We're...we survived? The...the crash..." Susan slowly faded back into view, her face pale. "Reed..."

"Dr. Richards is in the bed to your right," Captain Stacy said. Susan looked to her right, saw Reed lying there, and exhaled deeply.

"I-is he alright?" she asked.

Captain Stacy, Spidey, and the doctor all looked at each other. "Well, he's alive and stable," the doctor said. "I'm told he was conscious briefly during the rescue."

"Yeah, he said something about a cosmic storm," Spidey said. "We were kinda hoping one of you would wake up and tell us more about what happened."

Susan looked at Spidey and blinked, confusion plain on her face. "Umm...what are you supposed to be?" she asked.

"This is Spider-Man," Captain Stacy said. "He's, well..." He grimaced. "He helped rescue you and your colleagues, let's leave it at that."

"Spider-Man?" Susan echoed. "Are you like, a mascot or something? Oh, you must work on a kids' show, right?"

"Uhh...sure, let's go with that for now," Spidey said, trying his best not to sound insulted.

Captain Stacy laughed. "And I'm Captain Stacy, NYPD," he said. "We've already identified all four of you, but like Spidey said, what we _don't_ know is what you were all doing in that ship and what happened to you before you crashed."

"Oh," Susan said. "W-well...Reed can explain it better, but we were testing a ship he designed and doing some research. My brother wanted to go along because going into space sounded really cool to him, I wasn't about to let him go into space without me along to make sure he didn't blow up the ship by accident, and..." She shook her head. "We ran into some kind of cosmic storm, then..." She looked away. "Then..."

Once again, she began to fade from view.

Spidey coughed. "Uhh, miss? Are you aware that you keep turning invisible?"

"Invisible? What?" Susan looked up at Spidey. "What do you mean?"

"Your body seems to be turning invisible in part or in total at random," Captain Stacy said.

"Not totally random," Spidey countered. "That first time she turned invisible, she was embarrassed because she realized she was naked in a room full of strangers."

At that, Susan yelped and turned completely invisible.

"Fascinating," a voice rasped. Everyone turned to observe Reed Richards sitting up rather calmly in his own bed, observing them curiously.

"REED!" Susan faded partially back into view. "Are you alright? What happened to us?!"

"I'd have to run a series of tests, but..." Reed looked at his own hand, his face furrowing in concentration. His arm began to stretch out, his fingers flattening and waving like streamers. "It would seem the cosmic storm we encountered..."

"Gave you weird superpowers?" Spidey suggested.

"Hmm. I don't know about 'superpowers', but it certainly affected our biology and our innate abilities," Reed said. He frowned. "I watched Ben turn into...some sort of _creature_...that's the last thing I remember before..." He clutched his forehead. "Before..."

"Before what, Reed?" Susan asked, her hands clutched fearfully to her chest.

"Before Johnny...caught fire," Reed said sadly.

Susan gasped. "No..."

"Relax, he's fine," Spidey said. "He's not even burned, which is...kind of a miracle because he was literally on fire when we pulled you all out of the ship."

"Hey, can you all keep it down?" a new voice joined the conversation. "My head's _killing me_..."

"JOHNNY!" Susan nearly flew out of bed; only her IV and the fact that she was still naked kept her in place. "Johnny, are you okay?!"

Johnny Storm sat up in bed, frowning around at the room. "Aw jeez, how bad did I bite it?" He blinked as his eyes landed on Spidey, then widened in wonder. "Whoa. Spider-Dude! Oh, bro, I am _such a huge fan!_ "

"Really?" Spidey asked, taken aback.

"Oh, dude, totally!" Johnny gushed, leaning forward with a manic grin. "Those totally _sick_ air freestyle moves you do! You gotta teach me how you do that whole Tarzan thing!"

"Uhh..." Spidey coughed. "Before that, do you remember what happened aboard the ship before the crash?"

Johnny frowned. "Oh yeah, we had one heck of a wipeout, didn't we?" He looked around, his eyes landing on Susan. "You okay, sis?"

"Y-yeees," Susan hedged. "Except, umm..." She fumbled with her bedsheet. "S-something really... _strange_ happened. T-to all of us..."

The doctor coughed. "The patients need rest," he said. "Rest and observation. Captain Stacy, Spider-Man, if you would please leave for now. You can come back later and ask them more questions."

"Of course," Captain Stacy said.

"Later, Spider-Dude!" Johnny called cheerfully as they left.

"Later, uhh...Johnny-dude," Spidey called back with a wave. Once he and Captain Stacy were outside, he muttered, "Huh. My first fan from outer space."

Captain Stacy chuckled. "C'mon, let's find out how bad the coffee is here."

The tinny, digital sound of "Itsy Bitsy Spider" from somewhere on Spidey's person made him break stride. "Sorry, Chief, gotta go," Spidey said. "Much as I'd love to stick around and get the whole story, I'll have to find out later like everybody else!"

"Duty calls, huh?" Captain Stacy mused. "Well, see you around, kid."

* * *

"Gimme a break, Mr. Jameson," Peter whinged into his phone as he reached the best vantage point he could find to take pictures of the crashed ship, which was now surrounded by police and Coast Guard cutters and fireboats. "I was uptown! I just barely got here, you know what the subways are like this—" He pulled the phone away from his ear, convinced he could actually _feel_ Jonah's spittle flying out of the speaker. "Look, I'm getting good pics of the crash," Peter promised. "I—"

A flash of movement, just barely perceptible beneath the water's surface, caught his attention. "Gotta go, boss," Peter said hastily. "Somebody else wants to yell at me." He hung up and pocketed his phone, then searched for a place to make a quick change. By the time he emerged in his red and blues, his Spider-Sense was _screaming_.

"What's going o—oh no," he muttered, eyes widening. He zipped over to the nearest vantage point to the salvage operation. "GET CLEAR!" he yelled to the nearest fireboat. "GET EVERYONE OUT OF HERE, THERE'S—"

An underwater explosion rocked all the boats. One of the Coast Guard boats capsized, smoke billowing from its side. All hands scrambled to abandon the boat, pouring onto its neighbor. Another explosion tipped a police boat. The remaining boats began backing away from the spaceship; Spidey thwipped over onto one of them, helping to pull stragglers aboard even as he scanned the water for any sign of whatever was happening.

"I don't understand!" a Coast Guard officer said. "We didn't see _anything_ in the water!"

"There aren't any other ships! Where's this attack coming from?"

"I saw divers," Spidey said as he pulled a firefighter aboard. "I don't know what they're up to, but—" He was cut off by a series of loud, metallic _clank-snap_ sounds, followed by the pitching of the boat as the spaceship was abruptly lifted out of the water. All eyes turned to the sky as a group of VTL aircraft suddenly faded into view, turbines whirring as thick steel cables hauled up the ship, which was crawling with green-suited divers armed with spear guns.

"THEY'RE TAKING THE SHIP!" a police officer cried, drawing his sidearm. All around, officers drew their arms and trained them on the divers. "STAND DOWN OR WE'LL OPEN FIRE!"

A hail of spears was their answer. Spidey leapt high into the air and fired off several compact web shots, deflecting the spears harmlessly into the water. He then launched himself at the nearest aircraft and landed on the spaceship, immediately whirling and spinning into a kicking, punching blur. Spear guns were webbed, yanked out of hands, and tossed overboard; the divers fought back stiffly, mechanically, and Spidey easily avoided their clumsy attacks. He launched them off the craft's surface into the water, where they bobbed eerily in place, simply watching the ship from below.

A spike of danger flashed across Spidey's senses as a barely perceptible whir emitted from the back of one of the aircraft. Before he could react, a concussive blast of compressed air caught him full in the back, sending him sailing off the edge of the spaceship.

"Okay didn't see _that_ coming," Spidey grunted as he twisted in midair and fired another web line, latching onto an aircraft and hauling himself in close. Before he could close the gap, however, another compressed air blast hit him right in the head. He cried out in pain and let go of his web line, clutching his face as he tumbled end-over-end into the East River.

The pirate craft flew up, higher than they should realistically be able to, and vanished from sight, taking the spaceship with them.

One of the Coast Guard ships moved in close, and a rescuer pulled Spidey up out of the water. "Are you okay, Spider-Man?"

Spidey groaned as he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself, shivering. "Yeah, I'm good," he grunted. "Just a... _really_ bad headache." He frowned, sniffing himself. "Actually, the smell's worse than the air punch to the face..."

"Spider-Man!" an officer on one of the police boats called through a megaphone. "We just got a report, the Vault's under attack! Captain Stacy's got the word out, he wants you there pronto!"

"Great. Perfect." Spidey sighed and stood, using the blanket to sponge as much water out of his costume as he could. "Guess I'll have to air-dry," he muttered as he leapt from boat to boat before latching onto a loading crane and swinging away. "Just another day in the life of New York's favorite—"

Pigeon droppings dribbled down his mask.

"—yeah, that's about right."

* * *

 _Spectacular Spider-Man is the intellectual property of Marvel Entertainment, Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, and Greg Weisman._ _Other properties appearing in this story are the intellectual property of their respective creators._ _This intellectual property is used without permission with no intent to profit from said use. The unique content contained on this page is the property of Mythril Moth, and redistribution of this content without express permission is strongly discouraged._


	2. A Funny Thing Happened

**Author's Notes:**

Enjoy!

* * *

 **SPEC2CULAR**

 _by Mythril Moth_

 _ **BOOK ONE: HEROES ON THE RISE**_

 **Chapter 2: A Funny Thing Happened...**

"Hey Aunt May," Spidey said into his phone as he swung through the city. He'd doubled back to grab his bag, his camera, and his clothes before thwipping at high speeds in the direction of Ryker's, and naturally his phone had started ringing the moment he got a good swing going. Presently, he had it webbed to the side of his head so he could swing two-handed. "No, I'm alright—yeah, listen, I'm gonna be a little late getting back, you heard about that crash in the East River, right? I'm taking pictures for the Bugle, and I heard they found some survivors inside. I'm working on finding out where they took them so I can get a scoop. I mean, if I do, that's a lot more money, right? And we sure need the money. Yeah. Okay, I'll be careful. Love you too, Aunt May. Bye."

The high-speed swing through the city had given his costume a bit of an air-dry treatment, but the tradeoff was between the freezing water and the chilly early March air, he was cold, clammy, and probably well on his way to a nasty cold. It also hadn't done much good for the smell, nor had it helped with the pigeon crap decorating his face.

Once he reached the prison, he found a convenient place to stash his things, then swung up into one of the guard towers, surprising a guard and getting a rifle jammed in his face for his troubles. He raised his hands. "Whoa, easy officer! I was _invited_ to this party!"

The guard grunted, lowering his gun, and touched his radio. "Cap'n Stacy, da webhead's here," he growled. His narrow, beady eyes never left Spidey's face. "Dunno why we gotta have a fruit job like _you_ around," he said. "If it was up ta me, you'd be locked up in dere wid all de udda trash."

"Wow, don't need to ask what _you_ gave up for Lent," Spidey muttered, shaking his head as he leapt from the tower and weblined over to the prison proper.

"Ya got shit on yer face!" the guard called behind his back.

Several armed guards were stationed around the front prison entrance. Three of them had rocket launchers. From above, Spidey noticed other groups of heavily armed guards at strategic points around the compound. As he landed by the front group, the guard commander looked up. "Spider-Man," he said gruffly. "Think you can get in without us opening a door for you?"

"Air vent infiltration? No problem! It's what I live for!" Spidey said cheerfully. "Hope you dusted the air vents this time at least. I'm already soaking wet from falling in the East River, I don't need hay fever on top of everything else!" Without waiting for a response, he zipped up to the roof and sought out a familiar air vent. "Aaaand there," he said as he yanked open the vent and dropped in. Immediately, he was assailed with vibrations and heavy thumping, rattling sounds from deep inside the prison. "Wow, sounds like Rhino," he muttered as he crawled through the vents. "Don't tell me he—"

His Spider-Sense screamed in his head at almost the exact second the ceiling beneath him collapsed, the duct he was crawling in crashing to the floor with a loud BANG. Spidey rolled clear, briefly adhering to one wall before springing forward and across to the other. Touching down lightly on the wall, he looked behind him at the destruction and whistled. "Wow, that was a—WHOA!" He dropped flat to the floor as a guard sailed over his head, crashing into the twisted pile of metal behind him. "Okay, who's throwing cops around?"

"LET! ME! **OUTTA HERE!** " a gruff voice bellowed. Spidey's eyes widened.

The massive, orange, rock-like monster who had been identified as Ben Grimm was charging around the corridors like an angry bull, crashing into everything in sight and hurling whatever he could get his hands on. Further down the corridor, Spidey could see Captain Stacy and a small army of prison guards gathered in a huddle.

"Get everyone back!" Captain Stacy ordered a squad of guards armed with riot gear. "Put guards on the high-risk prisoners! Keep that _thing_ from letting anyone loose!"

Spider-Man leapt over to stand next to him. "So I guess Rocky woke up," Spidey observed.

"Spider-Man, good timing," Captain Stacy said. "Yeah, Mr. Grimm woke up while the other three were out of the lab having tests run. We tried to reason with him but he's, well—" A riot gun flew past, slamming into the wall behind Captain Stacy hard enough to make a dent.

"Not in a talking mood," Spidey finished. "Great. Want me to wear him down for you?"

"If you can," Captain Stacy said. "You handled Rhino, this shouldn't be a problem for you."

"Yeah, no sweat," Spidey said sarcastically as he watched the bellowing orange blur charge past. "Well, here goes nothing." He zipped off in the direction Grimm had gone. Quickly spotting the rampaging rock pile, he thwipped over and past him, spinning around and webbing his face. "Hey Rocky!" Spidey said. "Getting a lot of noise complaints from the neighbors here about your little rock concert!"

"GAH! WHAT THE HELL?!" Grimm clawed at his face with massive, four-fingered hands. "What IS this crap?!"

Spidey jumped forward and kicked Grimm in the face, staggering him, then wrapped web lines around his legs and tried to pull them out from under him. Unfortunately, Grimm proved to be too solid for Spidey to trip. He finally succeeded in clearing his face, then glared at Spidey angrily. "Ya little CREEP!" he snarled, rushing forward with a vicious haymaker. Spidey flipped over his head, stuck to the ceiling, coiled his muscles, and launched off in a full-body, full-power tackle that sent Grimm face-first to the floor. Spidey jumped back and webbed him down.

"Guess you're not as solid as you look," Spidey said. "Now be a good little rock monster and stay down, alright?"

"GRAAAH!" Grimm tore free of the webbing and lumbered to his feet, turning around to fix piercing, rage-filled blue eyes on Spidey. "ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT! IT'S CLOBBERIN' TIME!" He charged Spidey like an angry bull, but Spidey jumped up to the ceiling and stuck there, letting Grimm stomp past him. When Grimm spun around, he looked up at the ceiling and saw Spidey calmly sitting there.

"Hey big guy, miss me?" Spidey asked.

"What the hell ARE YOU?!" Grimm snarled. He punched a hole in the wall, tore out a chunk of it, and threw it at Spidey.

"Whuh-oh!" Spidey muttered, leaping clear and rolling to a stop on the opposite wall. "Hey, watch the property damage!" he called. "The taxpayers have to pay for this place, y'know! And I'm one of 'em!"

"Hold STILL, ya little punk!" Grimm bellowed, trying another straight charge and punch. Spidey sighed and flipped over him, landing right in the center of his back and perching there.

"You know, I could do this all day," Spidey said, "or we could both settle down and talk it out."

Grimm replied by throwing himself back-first at the nearest wall, crashing right through it. Spidey barely made it to the ceiling in time, and coughed as a massive cloud of wall dust and rubble billowed out of the hole.

"Look, can you at least stop long enough to put some shorts on?" Spidey asked. "Because your junk's swinging all over the place, and I gotta tell you, I'm gonna have nightmares for weeks!"

"WHY YOU LITTLE!"

"BEN! THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Spidey and Grimm both turned to see Reed Richards staggering up the hall, wearing a borrowed guard uniform and being propped up by two guards, with Captain Stacy close by. "Ben, you have to _stop!_ "

Ben frowned, turning ponderously. "Reed?"

Dr. Richards was clearly having difficulty walking, but he faced Ben with determination. "Ben, it's okay. We're all safe. Do you know what's happened to you?"

"What's _happened_ to me?!" Ben asked, holding up his massive orange hands. "They turned me inta some kinda _freak!_ "

Reed sighed. "No, Ben, this...this is _my_ fault." He held up his hand, which began stretching and flattening out. "That cosmic storm we hit—it did something to us. All of us. You, me, Sue, Johnny."

Ben's eyes widened. "Okay that's creepy."

"I know, right?" Spidey quipped.

"Shut up you," Ben said, throwing a chunk of rubble at Spidey. "This ain't got nuttin' ta do with you."

"Right, shutting up now."

"Lieutenant Grimm," Captain Stacy said. "I apologize, I guess things must have looked... _bad_ when you woke up alone in a cage. That's on me."

Ben squinted, picking out Stacy's badge clipped to his belt. "NYPD?" he grunted.

"That's right," Captain Stacy said. "Your ship crashed in the East River. You were all rescued, then brought to Ryker's Island once the rescue crews took stock of your unusual situation."

Ben frowned. "You dragged us outta the river an' threw us in prison, just like that?"

"We're not prisoners, Ben," Reed said. "They have medical facilities here that are better equipped to deal with things like this. Like _us._ "

"And you're all being released tomorrow," Captain Stacy said. "Dr. Richards thinks he'll be better able to study and understand your changes in his lab, and our people agree."

"Oh," Ben said. He scratched the top of his bald, craggy head with one thick finger. "Well that's different then." He turned to Spidey and flashed him a scowl. "So what's your story?"

"Oh, I'm just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man," Spidey said. "I'm always around to stop punks from robbing bodegas, muggers holding up joggers...bulls in china shops..."

"You callin' me a bull, ya little punk?"

"Hey, you _threw a wall at me_ , rockhead!"

Ben grunted. "Fair enough," he said. He looked down at himself again. "So, uhh...this permanent, or...?"

Reed sighed. "I don't know yet, Ben," he said. "But we'll all get through this together, I promise."

"Well, if we're all done here, I've got places to go and people to see," Spidey said. "Think I'm gonna check in on you guys now and then," he added. "Where can I find you?"

"The Baxter Building," Reed said.

"Got it!" With that, Spidey yanked open the nearest air vent and zipped up into the ducts.

In the stillness that followed his exit, Ben Grimm grunted, "What a weirdo."

A moment later...

"Uhh...so anybody got some pants I can borrow? Extra extra wide?"

* * *

J. Jonah Jameson studied the pictures Peter had laid on his desk. "Not bad, Parker," he grunted. "Leave it to Spider-Man to steal a spaceship!"

"But he didn't—"

"Kid, you look and _smell_ like crap and brine," Jameson said. "I'm giving you three point two seconds to get out of my building so you don't stink up the place! Also, maybe you should take a few days off. You don't look so good."

Peter sighed. "Right." He turned and left, frowning as he sneezed. A thick wad of miserable, soul-leeching stuffiness settled into the region right between his eyes, and he groaned.

* * *

"Peter dear! Are you—good heavens!" May Parker fussed over Peter as he trudged through the front door looking like death warmed over. "You're so pale! And your skin is so clammy! What were you doing, swimming in the—" She frowned as she caught a good whiff of him. "You _were_ swimming in the East River!"

"Not swimming, fell in," Peter said hoarsely. "Long story."

May frowned. "Well go right upstairs and dry yourself off then get into some nice warm pajamas and _into bed_ ," she instructed. "I'll bring up some chicken soup and orange juice straight away! We can't have you catching your death!"

"No argument here," Peter said as he shambled miserably upstairs. "I feel like I got hit by a wrecking ball."

A short time later, a now dry and warm Peter sat in bed with a tray of soup and juice across his blanket-covered lap. As he sipped his soup, he reflected on the long, strange day he'd had.

"Dr. Richards and his crew...I hope they're gonna be alright. I should definitely keep tabs on them. I have a feeling they're gonna be a major part of Spidey's life for a while whether I want it or not.

"I can't stop thinking about those drones that stole the ship. Never seen anything like that. Who has invisible drones? For that matter, who has invisible drones armed with air cannons? It doesn't make sense..."

* * *

They say the weather can affect people's moods. Conversely, some believe the mood of a populace can directly affect the weather. One would be hard-pressed to determine which axiom applied to the sprawling village at the heart of a mountain valley surrounded by evergreen on all sides, for a perpetual grey haze clung to the village like a second skin, spreading outward from an ancient castle perched on a large hill at its center.

All around the village, swarthy people in shabby, homespun clothes stood in lines, most holding woven baskets. Each line led to a long, low table with bushels of produce, packages of smoked meats, and crusty breads. Armed, masked soldiers stood watch over these tables. As each villager approached, the soldiers collected a meager sum of money from them, crossed their name off on a list, and distributed food, ushering them along pointedly with the muzzles of their guns.

At the edge of the village, a group of men and women wearing rougher, darker clothes and cloth masks over their faces watched the soldiers cautiously. Each of these men and women were armed. "Be ready," one man whispers hoarsely. "Watch for my sig—"

A soft, barely perceptible ***whump*** sounded from behind them. The leader slumped to the ground.

Several more _*whumps*_ sounded, and the raiders were knocked to the ground before they could even try to flee or fight back.

Heavy, clanking footsteps split the still air as a group of armored figures in green cloaks showed up seemingly out of nowhere, collecting the unconscious raiders and taking them away, their clanking steps fading in the haze.

None of the villagers reacted. None of the villagers dared.

Two drones, silent and eerie, hovered just outside the village.

* * *

 _Spectacular Spider-Man is the intellectual property of Marvel Entertainment, Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, and Greg Weisman. Other properties appearing in this story are the intellectual property of their respective creators. This intellectual property is used without permission with no intent to profit from said use. The unique content contained on this page is the property of Mythril Moth, and redistribution of this content without express permission is strongly discouraged._


	3. Cobwebs and Castles

**Author's Notes:**

Here's another chapter. Fair warning: this chapter has quite a bit of strong language and violence.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **SPEC2CULAR**

 _by Mythril Moth_

 _ **BOOK ONE: HEROES ON THE RISE**_

 **Chapter 3: Cobwebs and Castles**

Pounding bass shook half the block.

At the epicenter of the powerful noise pollution, a group of teens and young adults lounged around an old car with huge spinning rims and a lowered suspension. Some of them were smoking, others were shooting dice. A few were drinking. They were all dressed in similar colors.

A shadowy figure approached the edge of a nearby rooftop. The end of a cigarette glowed in the darkness. A scope lit up atop a shoulder-mounted grenade launcher.

None of the bangers saw. None of the bangers heard the warning beeps.

The rocket slammed into the car, which exploded in a towering fireball. Three of the bangers were killed in the explosion. The rest were thrown clear, either dazed or wounded. Those who were still conscious looked around in confusion, drawing their own guns and knives. "What the fu—"

Gunshots split the night. Brass shell casings rang as they landed on the rooftop.

The remaining bangers fell to the ground.

As sirens screamed and wailed, the man on the roof took a deep drag of his cigarette and walked calmly away. By the time the police arrived on the scene, the only thing left on the rooftop was a jet black business card with a white skull on the front.

* * *

Following his dip in the East River, Peter was laid up in bed for three days with a high fever, full body aches, and enough mucus coming out of his head to fill a football stadium. His friends had texted him, of course, though some of the texts had been a bit strained—Liz had texted him once, Gwen had texted him a few times and always seemed to want to say more than she actually did, and Harry...

Well, Harry's two texts had been unusually clipped and insincere. Even _Flash_ had given him a warmer well-wishing text than Harry!

In between bouts of fitful sleep and Aunt May fussing over him, Peter had kept an eye on the news, watching for anything about Dr. Richards and his company. There had been coverage of the crash, of course, and reports that "four unidentified astronauts" had been rescued, but little else. Then the news had turned to a series of bizarre gang-related murders in Hell's Kitchen. He'd made a mental note to check into that once he was back on his feet.

When he finally got the all-clear to go back to school, the first voice he heard upon shuffling through the front doors of Midtown High was Rand Robertson's enormous, booming voice. "Hey Parker, welcome back! Glad you're feeling better, man."

Peter smiled. "Thanks, Rand," he said.

"Yo Parker! Don't you know the East River Challenge is in July?" Flash Thompson called teasingly, earning laughs from his crowd of hangers-on and an eyeroll from Sha Shan Nguyen.

"Shoulda done us all a favor an' stayed there, ya geek!" Sally Avril called tauntingly. Liz Allan frowned and nudged her, then gave Peter a half-wave and a not-meeting-your-eyes look.

When he reached his locker, he found Gwen Stacy and Mary Jane Watson waiting there. "Hey Tiger," Mary Jane said. "Glad to see you back on your feet." She flicked her eyes from Peter over to Gwen meaningfully and made a subtle ushering motion out of Gwen's line of sight.

"Thanks MJ," Peter said. "Uh...hey Gwen."

"Hey Pete," Gwen said. "Um, I'm glad you're back. We...we missed you..."

"We _all_ missed you, Pete," Harry Osborn's voice intruded silkily as he slid up behind the girls and placed his hands on Gwen's shoulders. She shrunk back against him and turned her head away, her lips puffing out.

"Thanks guys," Peter said again. "So, uhh...what'd I miss?"

"Oh, the usual," Mary Jane said airily. "Homework, gossip, talking about how nobody's seen Spider-Man for the last few days...oh, and that spaceship that came down in the East River is still pretty hot news."

"Yeah, I've been keeping up with that while I was sick," Peter said. "Crazy stuff, huh?"

"Say, Pete," Harry said, "you got sick when you were at the East River taking pictures of the bug, right?" He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "Pretty funny, how you both disappeared around the same time."

Peter drew back. "Um, well...y'know, Spidey fell in the river too, and that water is _freezing_. I mean, he probably got sick just like I did!"

"Yeah, probably," Harry said. "C'mon, babe, we need to go to class," he said to Gwen, squeezing her shoulders. She stiffened, casting Peter a guilty, sad, and pleading look.

"Y-yeah..." They left together.

Mary Jane frowned as they left, then turned to Peter, hands on her hips. "Get her _out of that mess_ , Tiger," she said.

Peter's mouth suddenly felt terribly dry. "Y-yeah," he said hoarsely.

* * *

After a long, exhausting day of school, Peter suited up for a quick swing around the city. On a whim, he decided to swing by the Baxter Building to check up on the four astronauts. As he approached, he discovered an observatory on the roof; the dome had been retracted, and a giant, hand-painted sign taped up underneath it that read "DROP ON IN, SPIDEY!"

"Huh, nice to have an open invite for once," Spidey muttered to himself as he dropped through the open dome. A door at the back of the observatory led to an elevator, which helpfully had a floor guide posted next to it. "Richards Research," he read aloud. "Alright then."

A short elevator ride later, he stood outside a massive set of cargo doors with a huge security panel set up beside it. He approached; a camera swiveled to face him.

 _Welcome, visitor. For security purposes, please state your identity and reason for visit._

"Uhh...Spider-Man, and just checking up on Dr. Richards and friends."

 _One moment please..._

Several seconds later, the doors opened with a pneumatic hiss. Spidey strode through them, looking around curiously.

The space within was cavernous. Half of the floor was the most advanced laboratory he'd ever seen. The rest could best be described as some bizarre combination of a doctor's office waiting room, living room, and airport lounge: small tables with plastic chairs dotted the floorspace, with potted plants placed seemingly at random here and there, while two long leather sofas and several comfortable recliners were placed haphazardly around the space. An enormous stone bench took up a good chunk of the floor space in front of the biggest plasma TV Spidey had ever seen. Ben Grimm sat upon this bench with huge bowls of pretzels and popcorn to either side of him. In one corner, there was a wet bar with multiple bottles and glasses and...well, bar stuff Spidey was too young to know anything about.

"SPIDEY!" Johnny Storm jumped up out of one of the recliners, rushing over and offering a fist for a fist-bump, which Spidey returned readily. "You really came!"

"Well, yeah," Spidey said. "Wanted to check up on you guys, see how you're settling back in. And, um, how you're coping with the whole superpowers thing."

"That what you wanna call it?" Ben Grimm grunted. "Cuz I don't much feel _super_ lookin' like this."

Spidey sighed. "Yeah, I can see that," he said. "But if it helps, you hit like a freight train!"

Ben shrugged. "Ain't worth this," he said.

"Spider-Man, welcome," Reed Richards called from the lab. Spidey ambled over in his direction. Susan Storm was sitting in a chair in the lab area, holding a cotton wad to her arm. Reed had a test tube full of blood in one hand and was peering into a microscope. "Make yourself at home, I'd like to talk to you as soon as I get this next lab series started on Sue's blood." As he spoke, his arms idly weaved around the lab, doing things at different stations some distance from his body.

"Wow, looks like you're really getting the hang of that whole stretching thing," Spidey pointed out as he found a barstool to perch on.

"It's an intriguing physical anomaly," Reed said. "I fully intend to discover a way to cure myself and the others, but in the meantime, I'm studying this aberration in my own physiology through both clinical and practical observation."

"In other words, he's stretchin' all over the place while he runs blood tests," Ben translated. With a chuckle, he added, "He managed to get his neck tied in a knot yesterday. Sue hadda untie 'im!"

"Yes, it's been...an interesting experience," Reed said with some embarrassment.

Spidey chuckled. "Yeah, I remember having a few really weird days when I first got my powers. You get used to it pretty quickly."

"Well I'm not getting used to it," Sue said ruefully. "I mean, I can more or less control whether I'm visible or not now, but it gives me a headache whenever I change from one to the other. Also, there's the... _other_ thing..."

"Other thing?"

Sue held out her hands; a crackling ripple of energy formed between them. "I can make...what did you call them, Reed?"

"Psionic forcefields," Reed said. "That's an aberration I'd like to study in more detail, if we can find a safer venue with less sensitive and expensive equipment."

"Huh, cool," Spidey said. "And Johnny? What about you?"

Johnny scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, so, it turns out I can light my entire body on fire just by thinking about it. Umm...thing is, any time I do that I end up setting off all the sprinklers in here, which ticks _everyone_ off, and also, well—"

"It burns up all his clothes," Sue said with a frown.

"Yeah," Johnny finished. "I melted some two hundred dollar kicks yesterday. I'm...not lighting up again until Reed can figure out a way I can do it without burning up my whole wardrobe."

"Well, there's always finding a safe place to strip naked first," Spidey suggested.

"I'm thinking something more along the lines of a fireproof suit," Reed said. "Or, preferably, avoiding anything related to Johnny being on fire in the first place."

"Does it hurt?" Spidey asked.

"Nah, it feels...weird," Johnny said. "Pretty sweet actually. I'd love to try and cut loose with it if I could find someplace safe."

"Rooftops are good for that," Spidey said. "Especially in the warehouse district. Warehouse rooftops, nobody's gonna see you or bother you."

"Is that what you did?" Johnny asked eagerly.

"Among other things," Spidey said with a shrug. "I needed a lot of space and high-up places to test my powers out when I first got them."

"Yeah, all that webswinging you do needs lots of space, huh?"

"Actually, I just mean my actual powers," Spidey said. "The whole webbing thing came later."

"Your webs aren't innate abilities?" Reed asked curiously.

"People think that, but no," Spidey said, tugging off one of his gloves and showing the homemade device which covered his forearm. "I designed these webshooters myself, as well as the formula my webs are made from."

"Do you mind if I take a look?" Reed asked. Spidey took off the exposed webshooter; Reed stretched his arm out to collect it, then brought it over to his workstation, turning it over in both hands curiously. "Remarkable design," he said. "Pressure-sensitive trigger? You can control the firing pressure, duration, and spread just by varying the trigger pressure?"

"Wouldn't be useful any other way," Spidey said.

"Looks like you kitbashed it together in your garage," Sue said.

"Aheh...yeah," Spidey said, scratching the back of his neck. "I've got like, no budget for equipment, so I have to improvise the best I can."

"This is absolutely incredible," Reed said. "If you can do this much with scraps and salvage, imagine what you could do with a real lab and specialized materials!" He looked up at Spidey. "And the webbing? What's the formula?"

Spidey pulled out a spare webbing cartridge and tossed it over to Reed. "Here, have a free sample," he said.

"Looks like Reed found a new best friend," Sue said with a musical laugh.

"Hey yo webhead," Ben grunted from the massive stone bench. "You hear about them gangtown murders they been talkin' about on the news?"

"Yeah," Spidey said. "I'm actually planning to check into that later. I doubt the bangers in Hell's Kitchen will be happy to see me since I've put a bunch of their friends in prison, but whatever's going on down there is putting the public in jeopardy. That, and murder is a pretty high number on Spidey Claus' naughty list."

"Hah! Spidey Claus!" Johnny cackled, slapping his knee. "Dude, do you _love_ this guy or what?"

"Yeah yeah, he's a regular Jerry Seinfeld," Ben said with a roll of his eyes.

"Isn't it dangerous?" Sue asked. "Going to a place like that? With so much violence going on?"

"Hey, danger comes with the territory," Spidey said with a shrug. "I've tangled with every single supervillain that's hit this town since I shot my first web. Bangers and some trigger-happy banger killer, I can handle."

"You're very brave," Reed said, returning Spidey's web-shooter. "But I'd be lying if I said what you do doesn't bother me. You're a vigilante, taking the law into your own hands. That's just as illegal as the crimes committed by the criminals you catch."

"Dude, Spidey's a _hero_ ," Johnny said. "If I could do what Spidey does? Man, I'd—"

"Use those powers to show off all the time," Susan interrupted. "And you know it."

"Well, yeah," Johnny admitted. "But I'd do, y'know, some good too..." He grinned and snapped his fingers, producing a small flame. "Hey, check it! I could be a human lighter! People need a campfire lit, or a fireplace, or a barbecue, or their pilot light, I could totally take care of it!"

"Great, so you're finally almost as useful as a disposable lighter," Ben said with a grin.

"Superpowers, for want of a better word, are an anomaly," Reed said. "They're an aberration to be studied, isolated, quarantined, and if possible, cured. Exposing the public to powers you barely understand and can't control, even if you mean well, is dangerous and irresponsible."

"Hey, I understand _my_ powers perfectly," Spidey said as he finished reattaching his webshooter and pulled his glove back on. "And have total control."

"Are you sure?" Reed countered. "How can you be sure you won't further mutate into some sort of giant spider monster that preys on innocent victims?"

Spidey blinked. "Okay I wasn't worried about that _before_ , so...thanks for the nightmare." He shook his head. "And on _that_ happy note, I think I'll swing over to Hell's Kitchen and check things out." As he reached the nearest window, he paused, turned, and said, "Hey, Dr. Richards? Food for thought: With great power, there comes great responsibility. You look at your powers and think you have a responsibility to hide them from the world, keep them under wraps. I look at my powers and see that I have a responsibility to use them to help people." He looked away. "I learned that lesson the hard way." With that, he jumped out the window and swung away into the urban jungle.

"Huh, webhead's smarter than he looks," Ben grunted.

Reed sat silently for a long moment, contemplating his words. "Could these aberrations we've been afflicted with... _help_ people?"

* * *

As the sun set over Hell's Kitchen, Spider-Man watched from the rooftops as groups of gang members took to the streets, their colors and weapons in plain sight. They were visibly tense and angry. An hour into his patrol, he came across groups from two different gangs clashing in a back alley.

"It's you guys doin' this!" a Puerto Rican brandishing a butterfly knife accused. "This is all your fault! Our homies are dead because of you!"

"Hey yo, it's _your_ homies killin' _our_ crew, man!" an Asian banger countered. "We ain't done _shit_ —"

Spider-Man's Spider-Sense started screaming. "EVERYBODY _DOWN!_ " he yelled, flipping out into the open and spinning in a somersault while firing web bursts that pinned every banger to the walls of the alley a split second before machine gun fire echoed off the walls.

"What the fuck?!"

"What IS this shit?!"

"Hey, it's Spider-Man!"

"It's the Spider! He's the one—"

"Hang on a sec, fellas," Spidey said as he flipped up onto a roof. A second later, Spidey and another man dropped onto the pavement with a loud thud. Spidey flipped back, landing on his feet a few feet from the second person, who stood up and glared at him.

He was a tall, broad-shouldered, muscular white man anywhere from his late thirties to early forties, with tanned, weathered skin and a jet black mullet that spilled halfway down his back, held back by a camo headband. He wore a black vest of kevlar body armor with a white skull painted on the front, a heavy cargo belt whose front pouches had also been painted white to form elongated "teeth" for the skull, camo cargo pants, and black combat boots. A suede duster completed his ensemble. He had a submachine gun in one hand and a rifle slung across his back.

"Gentlemen, may I present your mutual problem," Spidey said.

"What the—?! Yo man, who the _fuck_ is this asshole?!" one of the Puerto Ricans yelled. The other bangers grunted general agreements.

"Bad language, good question," Spidey said as he idly webbed the bangers' mouths. "Who _are_ you?"

The man spat, taking a moment to light a cigarette from which he took a long drag. "Punisher," he growled in a gravelly voice. "Stay outta my way, freak. This doesn't concern you."

"Dude. You're wandering around the city gunning down people and blowing up cars with a rocket launcher," Spidey said. "What kind of friendly neighborhood Spider-Man would I be if I didn't stop an _unfriendly_ nutjob like you?"

"Suit yourself," Punisher grunted, pointing his submachine gun at Spidey and opening fire. Spidey jumped straight up, shot out a web line to snag the corner of the building behind Punisher, then used it to pull himself into a horizontal diving kick to Punisher's head. As Punisher staggered, Spidey yanked his gun away and webbed it to a wall. Before he could web up Punisher, though, Punisher recovered and, to Spidey's surprise, caught him with a fast, vicious standing uppercut which sent him flying.

"Not gonna say it again," Punisher growled. "Stay outta my way." He unlimbered his assault rifle and took aim at Spidey. Spidey yanked his feet out from under him with his webs, then grabbed the rifle and tossed it onto the roof. He stuck to the side of the wall and tried to web Punisher down, but Punisher rolled to the side and ran up the corner of the building at an angle, grabbing hold of a retracted fire escape and pulling himself up. In five seconds, he was on the roof.

"Oh, gonna play _that_ game?" Spidey muttered. "Because I _love_ that game!" He leapt up onto the roof and chased Punisher down. "Hey, Punisher! Come on, man! Let's sit down and talk this out!" He dodged as Punisher fired a handgun at him without breaking stride or even looking back. "You know you don't _have_ to use guns and bombs to punish gangbangers! You could, I dunno, maybe carry around a giant paddle? I know if I was a gangbanger I'd—"

Punisher suddenly stopped, turned, and rammed Spidey with a shoulder tackle. Spidey skipped back, launching himself forward and trying to scissor-kick Punisher, but Punisher twisted out of it and dropped Spidey with an elbow to the kidneys. Spidey grunted, but rolled out from underneath and webbed Punisher's eyes, then sent him flying with a punch.

"You know, you don't strike me as much of a Punisher right now," Spidey said. "More like a Take Punishment...er." He tilted his head. "That sounded better in my head."

Punisher stood up, wiping blood from his lip. "Why," he hissed, "are you _protecting that SCUM?!_ "

"Look, dude, I get it," Spidey said. "Gangs don't exactly help with the crime rate in this city. But you're not the solution, you're _part of the problem._ What you're doing? You're a gang of one, starting gang wars in the streets, and for _what?!_ Why all the killing and violence?"

"I had a wife, two kids," Punisher said, bowing his head and closing his eyes. "She was driving them to the dentist, got cut off...took a wrong turn. Had to go through gangland to get back on the main road." He clenched a fist. "Buncha punks high on meth shot up her car, killed my whole family." He grit his teeth. "They all gotta pay. They _all_ gotta pay."

"Whoa, man, that's harsh," Spidey said softly. "Look, I...I feel you, alright? I know what you're going through. My uncle was killed by a crook right in the street and I couldn't stop it. I wasn't...didn't do what I should've done. That's why I became Spider-Man. But this? What you're doing? This isn't the way. You're just—"

"IT'S _WAR!_ " Punisher snarled, firing off two shots at Spider-Man. "It's war, and all these doped-up scumbags...they gotta pay, man. They gotta _PAY!_ " He pulled a grenade out of his pocket, ripped the pin out with his teeth, hurled it at Spider-Man, and tucked into a combat roll in the opposite direction.

Eyes wide, Spidey snagged the grenade in his web and flung it straight into the sky as hard as he could. It exploded harmlessly high above the city, startling a flock of pigeons. "Dude, I'm allergic to pineapple!" Spidey quipped. "Also, I—" He froze at a sudden spike of danger from his Spider-Sense. "What the—"

A billy club passed through the spot where Spider-Man's head was a split second earlier. Before he knew what was happening, a foot snagged his left ankle and dragged him to the ground, and a knee was planted on his chest. Spidey looked up, eyes wide, into the blank white lenses of a dark red cowl.

"We don't throw hand grenades in my neighborhood, pal."

* * *

 _Spectacular Spider-Man is the intellectual property of Marvel Entertainment, Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, and Greg Weisman. Other properties appearing in this story are the intellectual property of their respective creators. This intellectual property is used without permission with no intent to profit from said use. The unique content contained on this page is the property of Mythril Moth, and redistribution of this content without express permission is strongly discouraged._


	4. Dare to be Greater

**Author's Notes:**

I apologize in the excessive delay in posting this chapter. I've had a rough month, I've been bedridden a lot lately, and I'm suffering a serious bout of creative burnout. As such, this chapter is shorter than I intended by a good 1k words or so. Still, better a shorter chapter than no chapter, right?

Enjoy!

* * *

 **SPEC2CULAR**

 _by Mythril Moth_

 _ **BOOK ONE: HEROES ON THE RISE**_

 **Chapter 4: Dare to be Greater**

"We don't throw hand grenades in my neighborhood, pal."

A _very_ athletic man in a dark red bodysuit with a cowl that left only his mouth exposed knelt atop Spider-Man. His cowl had small, curved red horns at the temples and blank white lenses over his eyes, and the chest of his costume sported two interlinked Ds.

Spidey threw the new arrival off and jumped back, landing in a low three-point stance. "Hey, don't tell me, tell Mr. Kill-Happy over there!" he protested, pointing at the Punisher, who was eyeing them both warily, gun drawn and swinging back and forth to cover both of them.

"Oh, I intend to," the new guy said grimly, idly swinging his billy club. "I've been looking for him for days."

"Well there he is, what's stopping—wait, who are you again?"

"Name's Daredevil. Don't go anywhere, Spider-Man... _you're next._ " And with that, Daredevil charged at Punisher, diving out of the way of two gunshots before cracking his club across the back of Punisher's gun hand, sending his weapon sprawling. Punisher dropped back and fell into a judo stance; the two men began trading furious back and forth blows.

Spider-Man shook his head. "And _this_ is why I stay out of Hell's Kitchen..."

* * *

In the wake of the Green Goblin incident, it had taken a great deal of legal yoga to avoid having the bulk of the Osborns' personal assets seized. None of which much concerned Harry Osborn, but he was grateful for it as he sat beside Gwen Stacy on a leather sofa that cost more than Peter Parker's entire house, facing an equally expensive giant screen plasma television, watching a movie, the two of them surrounded by snacks and giant sodas.

It sucked that Gwen had insisted on _The Wedding Singer_ , but Harry was willing to let her have one win in their relationship. Even if he was almost positive the choice of movie was a not-so-subtle dig at their situation.

 _*So I'm Glen and Pete's Robbie, huh? Well, sorry babe, but real life and the movies aren't the same thing. In real life, the Glens always win and the Robbies always lose.*_

Gwen sipped at her soda miserably, one eye on the movie, the other on Harry, but her mind clear across town. _*I wonder what Peter's up to right now...*_

* * *

Liz Allan groaned in frustration and flung her math book across her bedroom, then flopped back on her bed, squeezing her eyes shut. "I can't do this without Petey," she mumbled. She rolled over and looked at a framed photo, next to her bed, of the two of them on one of the few dates they'd had that _didn't_ get interrupted. "Oh, Petey..." She sighed. "I wonder what you're doing right now..."

* * *

A blast of webbing struck Punisher in the eyes, staggering him. The distraction was enough to give Daredevil an opening for a solid punch to the ribs, followed by a kick that spun Punisher around, letting him deliver a flurry of lightning jabs to the kidneys. Punisher's armor absorbed enough of the impact that he was only staggered; he drew a knife from his belt and swung around, slashing at Daredevil's face. To his surprise, the sight of a knife coming right at his eyes didn't make Daredevil flinch. Spider-Man, however, was more concerned; a web shot out and grabbed Punisher's wrist, stopping him from cutting a gash through—

—where Daredevil's head had been a split second earlier, as he'd waited until the last moment to duck low and step inside Punisher's guard, delivering a vicious uppercut to his chin and following it with a sweep that dropped him. Punisher growled and rolled away, kipping to his feet and slipping on a pair of electrified brass knuckles while drawing a pistol with his other hand which he began firing blindly at the roof line, hoping to tag Spidey.

"Wow, you like playing with dangerous toys, don't you fella?" Spidey came flying in behind Punisher, kicking him in the back of the head and driving him straight into Daredevil, who went for a series of body blows that juggled Punisher back to Spider-Man, who brought his hands down in an axe-handle smash to the crown of Punisher's head. Punisher snarled and whirled around, taking a swing at Spidey, but Daredevil's club cracked him hard across the knee. Spidey jumped to the side and started firing bursts of webbing at Punisher. Three seconds later, Punisher was completely webbed up, snarling muffled obscenities through a web gag as Spidey hung him from the fire escape. "There, all wrapped up for the cops," he said. "Whew! What a nut."

"Hope they put him in a hole until he rots," Daredevil said. "Some of these kids he's been killing were good kids, they just...hung out with a bad crowd. Can't blame 'em, really." He stretched and sighed. "Sometimes it's _safer_ to be in a gang in this city, especially for minorities."

"I dunno, I don't think I'd want to paint that kind of target on myself," Spidey said.

Daredevil arched an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right? Half of New York wants to put you in a cell right next to this psychopath, and you're talking about walking targets?"

"Fair enough." Spider-Man shuffled his feet awkwardly. "So what now?"

"Now," Daredevil said tiredly, "I go home, you go back to Queens, we call it a night."

Spidey blinked. "How'd you know I'm from Queens?"

"You smell like Queens," Daredevil said. "Well, and the East River, but mostly Queens. I also know you're just a kid—I'd say fifteen, sixteen tops." Daredevil rubbed his shoulder. "To tell the truth, I was planning to leave _two_ surprises for the cops tonight, but...you're like me. You're not the menace some people paint you to be. To be honest, I think the city's safer with you in it." He gave Spidey a nod of respect.

"Thanks," Spidey said. "Uhh...you too," he said. "Anyone who can get the drop on me the way you did, I'm glad he's on _my_ side."

Daredevil snorted. "I'm only on one side, kid. The side of justice."

"Alright, well...see you around, devil guy."

Daredevil grinned. "Yeah, seeya," he said in a rueful tone before running off and leaping to another rooftop, then out of sight.

Spidey shook his head. "Weird guy," he muttered before shooting a web at the highest anchor point in range and zipping off toward home.

* * *

At Sue's insistence, Reed had stepped out for some fresh air. It worried him being out in public when he still had numerous concerns about the nature, extent, and safety of his aberrations, but given he'd developed a degree of fine control over his... _abilities_...since beginning his analyses, and given the others, save for poor Ben, had done the same, he decided it was reasonably safe to step out for a late evening walk and a sandwich from a deli he particularly liked.

The sun had gone down a while back and Reed was two blocks from home when he heard a woman's shrill scream from the other side of the street. He looked and saw a blur of motion, as well as a number of pedestrians being jostled rudely aside by a fleeing figure.

"HE'S GOT MY PURSE!" the same woman screamed.

Reed frowned. Some people had stopped walking and were milling around and a few had taken out their phones, but most were walking on. Some had tried to close ranks on the purse snatcher, but he was still shoving his way through the thinning herd of New Yorkers barring his path.

 _With great power comes great responsibility..._

Tightening his jaw, Reed willed himself to stretch to the height of a traffic signal, making his legs long and thin enough that he could cross the street in one stride without disrupting traffic. As he crossed the street (disrupting traffic as people stopped to stare at the towering taffy man), he stretched and expanded his right arm and hand, catching a railing on a balcony and using it to bring himself around quickly, freeing his legs to shift size and orientation, allowing him to maintain stride and speed as he pursued the snatcher, who he could now see clearly from his heightened vantage point. As people stopped and stared at him, he stretched his body long and thin, bending low over the sidewalk as he ran in kind of a long, lopey gait that felt completely unnatural and yet oddly natural at the same time.

In no time at all, he closed the gap. He stretched out his arms, grabbing the purse snatcher and winding his fingers around him several times to ensnare him. As the offender thrashed and cursed, a police car suddenly swerved out of traffic, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Two officers jumped out, training their guns on Reed, eyes wide and frantic.

"D-don't move!" one officer said shakily.

"S-stay where you are! Drop the civilian!"

"Good evening, officers," Reed said politely. "This man just stole a woman's purse. I believe you'll find her—" He craned his neck to look behind him, stretching it out to peer around the corner. "She's headed this way now, actually." He turned to look at the police again. "If it's alright with you, I'll release the suspect into your custody?"

The two officers looked at each other and blinked. "Uhh...yeah. You do that, fella."

Reed unwound his fingers from the purse snatcher, withdrawing them into his hands, which shrank to normal size along with his arms and legs. It took several seconds for him to completely return to normal size and proportions, with cameras flashing all around him and bystanders murmuring excitedly. One of the officers moved to handcuff the suspect while the other kept Reed covered with his gun.

The woman finally ran up to the scene, panting and puffing. She looked at Reed with unabashed gratitude. "Thank you," she breathed. "You saved—" She paused. _"Reed Richards?!"_

Reed blinked. He hadn't recognized the woman at first, but now that she was right in front of him, his shaky memory for names and faces clicked. "Oh, err...hello, Mrs. Collins," he said. "Small world."

The officer who still had his gun trained on Reed cleared his throat. "Ahem. Sir? Ma'am? We'll need both of you to make a statement..."

"Of course, Officer," Reed said mildly, choosing to ignore both the excited crowd noies surrounding them and the rapid beating of his own heart.

* * *

"You're home awfully late, Peter," Aunt May said.

"Sorry, Aunt May," Peter said. "I was out catching up on stuff I planned to do before I got sick." He stopped to kiss his aunt on the cheek. "So how was your day?"

"Oh, I have some exciting news actually!" May said with a broad smile. "I'm getting a job!"

Peter blinked. "A job? Aunt May, that's...that's great, but...are you sure you're in any shape to—"

"Oh, pish-posh," May said, waving him away. "I'm not some frail old lady on her deathbed. Besides, the doctor said it'd be good for me to get out and be active, and I'm going to be helping out a good cause! This nice man bought PS616 from the city to use as a homeless shelter, and I'm going to be helping set up the shelter's kitchen."

"Wow," Peter said. He frowned. "PS616, though, that's...where _is_ that?"

"Oh, it's in Chinatown," May said. "That's how I found out about it, I was there shopping for some herbs my doctor recommended." She smiled. "Oriental medicine works wonders, you know. If I take the right herbs and stay active, I can turn the clock back a good ten years!"

"Well...so long as you don't overdo it," Peter said, hugging May. "Just be careful, alright?"

"Oh, I will." She frowned. "Peter! You reek of cigarettes! What—"

"Ugh, tell me about it," Peter said quickly. "Jameson's started smoking again. Now it's not just him spitting in your face, it's him blowing _smoke_ in your face."

"That's deplorable," May said. "I should call him up and—"

"What good would it do?" Peter said with a helpless shrug. "Old Picklepuss doesn't listen to anybody." He yawned. "Well, I'm beat. Nite Aunt May!"

"Yes, goodnight, dear. Sleep well!"

* * *

 _ **The Spectacular Stretching Scientist!**_  
 _Eminent researcher foils purse snatcher_

 _Notable astrophysicist Dr. Reed Richards, recently in the headlines as one of the survivors of the spaceship crash in the East River, made waves again last night when he foiled a purse snatcher. What makes this Good Samaritan act worthy of front-page news? Well, just take a look at our stunning photos of Dr. Richards straddling the street, stepping over cars, and stretching around corners!_

 _Dr. Richards was unavaiable for comment, but a representative did say that he and his fellow crash survivors will be reaching out to the media with their story in due time. For now, it seems Manhattan has a new, stretchy superhero making the city a little safer._

"So the webhead got to you, huh?" Ben grunted with an amused snort.

Reed shrugged. "I'll admit, when I heard Mrs. Collins yell that her purse was stolen, when I saw the thief pushing his way through the crowds, something...something _clicked_ ," he said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm completely committed to curing us, I don't know how dangerous these changes to our bodies really are, and I'm not planning to make a career out of things like this, but—"

"But in the moment, you saw how you could do the most good, and you acted," Susan said, putting her arms around Reed and embracing him from behind. "You're a good man, Reed. You did a good thing." She turned him around and looked into his eyes. "Just...just be more careful, alright? He could've had a gun, you could've been shot...I'm pretty sure you're not bulletproof."

"Yeah, and all that stretching wrecked your clothes," Johnny pointed out.

Reed grimaced. Everything he'd been wearing when he left had stretched out and warped, seams had split, and his shoes had come apart. It had all barely held together long enough for him to get home. "I'll...need to work on some sort of special material," he said, heading over to his lab. "Something that can stretch with me without ripping." He frowned thoughtfully. "Something that'll acclimate to all our powers," he added. "Maybe...unstable molecules?"

"So...you're making superhero outfits for us?" Johnny asked.

Reed stopped short. "Er..." He looked over at Ben, indecision in his eyes.

Ben snorted and made a 'go-ahead' gesture. "Go on, egghead, get it outta your system," he said good-naturedly. "Heck, I could use some pants that won't rip ta pieces on this crazy rock skin."

* * *

 **Spider-Man In League With Lucifer!**  
 _Spidey Spotted With Devil of Hell's Kitchen_

 _The serial killing spree which has claimed the lives of two dozen gang youth in Hell's Kitchen ended yesterday with the arrest of one Frank Castle, 35, identified by surviving witnesses as the killer. But there's another story here: Castle was seen fighting not one, but **two** masked vigilantes!_

 _Spider-Man has joined forces with a second red-suited vigilante in a red mask, who the locals call the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, leading some to speculate on the possibility of a vigilante turf war in New York City..._

"Vigilante turf war? Oh, gimme a break!" Flash Thompson ranted. "Spidey went to bust heads on that dude who's been shooting up Hell's Kitchen, that's all!"

"You have to admit, this 'Devil' character is suspicious," Sha Shan Nguyen commented. "A vigilante who identifies himself with a Satanic archetype?"

"I've been hearing a lot about that guy," Hobie interjected. "They say he's a real skullcracker. Goes after drug dealers mostly. Always puts his victims in the hospital, lots of broken bones."

"Yeah, well...drug dealers deserve it," Flash said. "And what about this Castle guy, huh? I mean, yeah, sure, gangs are bad and all, but you can't just go around killin' people!"

"That's true," Sha Shan said. "Still, aren't you curious about how Spider-Man ended up working with this Devil guy?"

Peter finished shuffling books in his locker, closed the door, and headed off to class. As he walked down the hall, he spotted Gwen and Harry. Gwen had her head down and her shoulders hunched, with Harry's arm wrapped protectively around her as he chattered on about something. For a brief moment, his gaze met Peter's; Harry's eyes tightened, and his lips drew into a thin, eerie smile. Gwen glanced Peter's way out of the corner of her eye, then looked away, a sullen, withdrawn frown on her face.

Peter's mind conjured up a brief, ugly image of webbing Harry to the wall, taking Gwen, and swinging away from the school. Fists clenched at his side, he shuffled on to class.

* * *

 _Spectacular Spider-Man is the intellectual property of Marvel Entertainment, Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, and Greg Weisman. Other properties appearing in this story are the intellectual property of their respective creators. This intellectual property is used without permission with no intent to profit from said use. The unique content contained on this page is the property of Mythril Moth, and redistribution of this content without express permission is strongly discouraged._


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